Learning Curve
by vcg73
Summary: Shue's assignment forces his students to look deeper. I've been doing a series of Kurt Friendship fics and decided on Puck this time, with a side helping of Tina and Finn. Assumes more than a week exists between "Funk" and "Journey.
1. Assignment

Will Schuester straightened a stack of sheet music, smiling as he watched a dozen students file into the practice room and take their seats. Fairness and the desire to avoid hurt feelings would never allow him to admit his preference aloud, but in his heart he knew that these twelve were his favorites among all the students at McKinley. They had come a long way together and he hoped that they would go farther still.

His brow furrowed a bit as he noticed how most of the twelve had chosen to partner off. Santana and Brittany, Matt and Mike, Tina and Artie, Kurt and Mercedes, Finn and Rachel, Puck and Quinn. There was rarely any variety unless someone was having a disagreement. When Jesse St. James had been present, he and Rachel had tended to pair up while Finn gravitated over to one of the other groups. With Jesse gone, the status quo had instinctively realigned. It brought back an idea that had been lurking at the edges of Will's mind for several weeks.

"Duets and trios," he said loudly, bringing everyone's attention to him as the bell rang. "That's going to be your assignment for this week. We will be putting together several songs that we might potentially perform at Regionals this year, but what I want from you is more than an exercise in vocal harmony. I want you to put some thought into finding personal harmony with your partner, even as you choose a song that you will perform for the group at the end of the week."

With the exception of Rachel, who was beaming with pleasure over this idea, every face in the room was pained.

"As in, can't we all just get along?" Kurt asked, rosy lips pursing as if he had just tasted something particularly sour.

"No, as in exploring what makes each of us who we are," Will clarified. "And you might be interested to know, Kurt, that you actually gave me the idea for this assignment."

The boy's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head in denial when he received several unhappy looks from his fellow glee clubbers.

"A few weeks ago Kurt said something that I found interesting," Will continued. "He said, and I quote, 'I'm not a box. There are more than four sides to me.' That got me thinking."

"That somebody seriously needs to take Geometry next semester?" Santana tossed out, smirking when several people laughed.

Will laughed a little. "No. That all of us tend to take it for granted that we know everything we need to know about each other based on what we see on the surface. I, for one, have been surprised several times this year by the things I've learned about you guys, and I think you could stand to do some learning about each other." Seeing nervous expressions on several faces, he amended, "I'm not asking you to dig for dirt. Let's keep this friendly. You're going to partner up and your job will be to find out three things about a teammate that you never knew before. Spend some time with that person, get to know him or her a little better, and then later in the week, you'll reveal what you've learned."

"Will we get to choose our own partners?" Mercedes asked hopefully.

"No. Sorry, but I'm going to use random selection, like we did when you guys performed your ballads. I'm going to pull a name and that person will then choose another. Whoever they pull will be the person they have to learn about. Then that person will pull a name, and so on. The last person chosen will learn about the first person." He smiled. "That way nobody will be tempted to swap a few made up ideas with their partner, just to get it over with."

A couple of guilty smiles revealed that this idea had crossed more than one mind.

Quickly, Will tore up a piece of paper and wrote down all twelve names.

The singers watched him intently as he scrambled the scraps of paper in the hat that always seemed to be just lying around the choir room. "Ready?" Realizing the few unenthusiastic murmurs were all the response he was going to get on this one, Will reached in and pulled, "Mercedes! Looks like you get to choose first."

The girl made her way down to the piano and rummaged in the hat. "I got . . . Santana."

Ignoring the somewhat horrified expression on her face, the sassy cheerleader took her place in front of the piano. Santana wrinkled her nose in distaste as she in turn pulled, "Rachel."

Rachel practically exploded from her chair, excited to find out who she would get. "Mike!"

Mike Chang smiled a little bemusedly at her enthusiasm, giving her a nod as he selected, "Artie."

Artie exchanged a friendly fist bump with him as Mike went back to his seat. He wheeled his chair forward and Will helpfully lowered the hat so that he could reach inside. Artie looked just a little pained when he chose, "Brittany."

The vacant look on the blonde Cheerio's face made it clear that this assignment would be easier for her than anyone else. After all, Brittany never remembered anything about anyone. "Puck," she said, handing him the paper with his name on it as she pulled it out. "Keep this safe. Then you'll know who you are in case I forget."

"O…kay," he said slowly, exchanging a mute 'Whoa' with Finn as he reached into the hat and selected, "Kurt."

The smaller boy looked like he'd been sucker-punched as he descended the steps and changed places with the smirking jock. Rummaging among the few remaining names he quickly plucked one out and smiled. "Tina."

Tina gave him a small grin in return, one of the few people to look happy with both of their selections as she pulled, "Finn."

Despite the fact that there were only two names remaining in the hat, Finn squeezed his eyes shut and took his time shuffling the scraps of paper. He grinned when he chose, "Matt."

Matt did not waste time getting out of his seat. He just nodded to the pregnant girl next to him and said, "Guess that means I got Quinn and she got Mercedes."

Quinn glanced up at the girl in the back row and smiled. "I can handle that."

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Will smiled at the class. "All right then, you've got your partners! You can choose to perform a duet with one, or a trio with both of them. And yes, Rachel, that means you can perform twice if your partners choose to go different ways."

The girls' lead clapped her hands, beaming at this news and flashing a bright smile at Mike and Santana.

"Let's have some fun with this!"


	2. Stereotypes

There was much discussion among the Glee students concerning the best way to conduct their research. In the end, most of them chose the logical route of a visit to each other's homes. Quinn had made the suggestion, pointing out that since she had been living with Mercedes for the last couple of weeks, she had already learned several new things about her, making her assignment half complete already.

"I should come over to your house," Tina suggested to Finn and Kurt. "Since you guys live together, maybe I can get both of my homework pieces done at the same time. Though, I guess that's probably not fair to you, Kurt."

He smiled at her. "I'm sure I can learn a few things just by talking to you, but if that's not enough, I'll return the favor and come by your place tomorrow."

"Perfect!" she agreed with a sunny smile. "I like this assignment. It'll be fun to learn something new about you guys."

"Mind if I tag along?" Puck interrupted gruffly, directing his question to Tina but looking at Finn. The two had started getting along much better again since their joint efforts at KISS rock, tire-slashing and minimum wage employment over the last several weeks, but they had still not reached their former status as best friends. "I need to get some dirt on Kurt."

He grinned a little at the inadvertent rhyme and Finn chuckled. "Fine by me."

Kurt waited a moment, until it became clear that Puck had no intention of asking for his permission in this. He cleared his throat, raising a deliberate eyebrow when Puck looked his way.

It took a moment, but Puck eventually got the message. Rolling his eyes, he drawled, "May I _please_ come over to the palace, your highness?" Eyes sweeping over Kurt's tight herringbone trousers and gaudy black and white, splash-patterned sweater, he grimaced. "Not sure why I should bother, though. It's not like there'll be anything different than what I see right here."

Blue eyes went cold as Kurt pulled himself up into a haughty stance and crossed his arms. "If that's what you really believe, then you're right. There is no point. I wish you luck completing the other half of your assignment."

Spinning on the heel of one black and white, cross-strapped, Vivienne Westwood boot, Kurt snatched up his satchel and stalked out of the choir room.

"Dude, that was not cool," Finn said, shaking his head. "Kurt is a really good guy when you get to know him, and really surprising sometimes. You should give him a chance."

"He's really nice," Tina said, looking at Puck reproachfully. "And I was starting to believe that you were nice, too. Guess we were both wrong. I'll see you later, Finn."

She also left without a backward glance.

Looking down at the scuffed toes of his favorite Converse sneakers, Puck grimaced. He knew they were right, but old habits died hard. Picking on the gay kid had been an acceptable part of his tough guy M.O. for such a long time that it was hard to remember sometimes that it didn't fit in with his recent effort to become a better person. Deep down, he knew that one of the reasons for his continued strain with Finn was his personal reluctance to set foot in his friend's new home, which he imagined as being decorated in total homo-explosive taste.

Still, he only had to learn three lousy little facts about Kurt, and he really did not want to fail this assignment. It just would not be cool if everybody in Glee thought that Noah Puckerman was the only guy in class who hadn't had the balls to step up to the plate and take a swing.

"I'll talk to him," he grunted, giving in to Finn's pleading look. Sticking his hands in his pockets and squaring his shoulders as though preparing to face an arctic cold-front, he headed out to corner his quarry.

He found Kurt easily. The other boy was at his locker, vigorously slamming books inside its metal confines and throwing replacements into his bag with equal irritation. Anger filled every line of his slender form, and the look he shot Puck when he leaned a shoulder against the locker next to his should have incinerated him on the spot. "Lose your way to the dumpster, Puckerman?"

Puck sighed. Apparently he had really offended Kurt somehow. "Look, I shouldn't have said that. You're not shallow and I'm sure there's more to you than just what you show here at school. I mean, it's not your fault that you always have to be so . . ." he waved his hand in a vague, all encompassing gesture, making a face at the fuzzy patterned garment Kurt wore. A lot of the other boy's wardrobe choices were ugly, in his opinion, but this particular sweater made his hands just itch to throw a Slushie at it.

"Fashionable?" Kurt supplied dryly, raising that contemptuous eyebrow again.

"Yeah . . . I guess. Seriously, Hummel, do you _own_ a mirror?"

Kurt bristled. "Excuse me?"

"Man, you look like Cruella-freaking-DeVille in that thing! You make me want to report you to the ASPCA."

Startled by the outburst, Kurt looked down at himself. "This sweater cost $300, I'll have you know. I fixed cars at my dad's shop every day after school for _weeks_ to buy it." His mouth primmed as he looked over Puck's torn jeans and faded football jersey. "And who are you to criticize? You look like you've been run over by the fashion police."

"Who am I? I'm just a guy with two working eyeballs and a strong stomach," he shot back. Suddenly, he grinned. "Hey, that's something I didn't know about you! You work part time in an auto-shop. Two more facts and I'm golden."

Fingering the edge of his collar, Kurt did not appear to have heard him. A worried frown was creasing the pale skin between his eyebrows. "Do you really think it's that bad?"

To say that Puck was surprised by the question, by the simple fact of the annoyingly self-confident Kurt Hummel being honestly concerned about _his_ opinion, was a decided understatement.

"It's right up there with that multi-colored zebra thing that Mercedes wears sometimes." He shrugged at the instant look of horror this pronouncement brought. "Maybe I just got something against animal prints."

Kurt pondered this for a moment, but then apparently decided that he was not willing to take the chance. Turning back to his locker, he wriggled out of the fuzzy sweater, revealing a long-sleeved white dress shirt underneath. Folding the sweater neatly, he deposited it in his locker and whipped out a long, breezy, blue silk scarf. Puck grinned as he watched Kurt expertly knot it into place around his collar. The scarf had little skulls patterned over the fabric. Weird, but definitely an improvement over that horrible sweater.

"So, it's okay if I come over with Tina this afternoon?" he asked, needing to be sure.

"Yes."

Kurt appeared a little reluctant to issue permission, and Puck couldn't really blame him. It wasn't like he would have been eager to have the other boy over to his house, either. And given their past history, he supposed he was probably dead-last on the list of Glee kids whom Kurt would have considered inviting on his own.

"Great. Where do you live?"

Kurt looked startled. "Finn hasn't told you?"

Puck shrugged. "Never came up."

Reaching for a notebook, Kurt wrote his address down in neatly curved script and handed the page over. "I gave Finn a ride to school this morning, so if you want to take him home with you, he can give you directions."

"What about Tina?"

"She can ride with me."

Puck was interested by the hardening in Kurt's eyes and the firmness in his tone when he said this. He would never have hurt Tina, but Kurt was clearly reluctant to allow his shy little Goth-girl friend to ride with someone he still considered a bully. Apparently, Puck mused, he was not the only one who was having trouble letting go of the mutual stereotype they had always operated under.

"Sounds good," he said, offering a casual wave with the paper he had folded between two fingers. "Guess I'll catch you later."

He smirked, able to see Kurt out of the corner of his eye, watching his departure with a thoughtful frown upon his face.

Maybe this assignment might turn out to be fun, after all.


	3. Fun Facts

Tina had been chattering happily ever since she and Kurt had pulled out of the McKinley student parking lot. A part of her thought that she really should quit babbling. After all, it wasn't like Kurt really needed a play-by-play of all the reasons she thought "Sweeney Todd" was Tim Burton's best movie, but he did at least seem to be interested, so she kept talking. She wasn't sure why, but her usual shy reluctance to talk with other kids never applied to Kurt.

"I suppose the music puts it over the top, but I really wouldn't have guessed you'd pick that movie for your favorite," Kurt said when he finally got an opportunity to slip in a few words. "I would have gone with 'Beetlejuice' for you. It's funny, plus pretty much everybody in it is dead. And the heroine is totally Goth, which seems like it would appeal to you."

She laughed. "My personal style doesn't always reflect my taste in film. For example, I've seen every single Pixar movie, like, at _least_ a dozen times. Last month I had a total Pixar marathon, 'Toy Story' through 'UP', just one after the other, all day long."

"Sounds like fun. Maybe I can join you for the next one. I still haven't seen all them."

Tina's eyes widened. "No way!"

He glanced at her. "As in, no way could I have missed any of those movies; or no way am I getting invited?"

She giggled. "Of course you're invited! In fact, that would be such a cool way to celebrate my next birthday! I never had enough friends to have a birthday party before, but a Pixar party with all the Glee kids would be totally wicked." Seeing the surprise on his face, she stopped, feeling her whole face suddenly go hot. "Or, maybe not. I mean, I guess that sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it? Like something a seven-year-old would want, instead of a seventeen-year-old."

Switching his grip on the steering wheel, Kurt reached across and gripped her hand. "I don't think it's stupid at all."

Tina smiled, hearing the unspoken message that he understood exactly how she felt. That he, too, had known what it felt like to long for fun times and real friends, without having the first clue how to go about getting them.

Squeezing his hand in return, she said, "In that case, you're the first person on my guest-list. But don't tell Artie."

Kurt smiled. "You have my word."

Releasing her hand, he glided his car into the left turn lane that led onto his home street. The black Lincoln Navigator made its way smoothly along the quiet suburban street, finally stopping before a single story house with rose-bushes lining the front of it.

"You have a really pretty house," Tina told him, hopping out of the car and looking around with admiring eyes. "I like the flowers."

"My mom planted those the year before she died," he told her, taking her arm and escorting her up the walk. He paused in front of a pink and gold hybrid, lightly stroking the edge of one petal with his index finger. "This was her favorite. She loved roses. So do I; maybe because the scent of them always reminds me of her. That's why I take care of these bushes. Whenever I work on them it makes me feel like she's still with me a little."

He shrugged, as if that fact wasn't very important to him at all, which told Tina how much it totally was. "That's nice. And these are really beautiful. I wish we could have flowers like these. My mom tries to plant different stuff every year, but all we ever seem to get is weeds."

Kurt laughed. "Well, I'd offer to share my expertise with her but I honestly don't know anything about gardening, except for the roses. You'd probably plant tulips and end up with a yard full of cabbages or something."

"Eeww!"

They were still laughing when the sound of a rattling, back-firing pickup caught their attention. "Looks like the boys are here," Kurt commented, sighing softly.

"I sure hope I can find out something interesting about Finn," Tina said in a whisper, instinctively pulling a little closer to Kurt as the two athletic boys exited Puck's truck, laughing and mockingly shoving each other as they came forward. She liked Finn and was becoming increasingly comfortable around him as the months went by, but Puck still tended to really intimidate her.

"Finn won the Junior division of the burger eating contest they hold at the Allen County Fair, three years running," Kurt offered with a smirk. "Does that count as interesting?"

She gaped at him. "You're kidding!"

"Unfortunately, I'm not. He actually has a trophy shaped like a hamburger, which he insists on displaying in the living room. Don't you, Finn?"

The other boy smiled uncertainly. "Don't I, what?"

"Kurt says you won a trophy for eating burgers," Tina giggled.

Excitement instantly brightened his eyes. "I did! You want to see it?"

Exchanging an amused glance with Kurt, she followed Finn toward the house, nodding in morbid fascination as he began animatedly describing the best methods for consuming a dozen burgers in a twenty minute span without vomiting.

Suddenly, Tina was no longer quite certain that she was ready to discover more fun-facts about Finn Hudson.


	4. Revelations

Kurt stood stiffly, posture perfect and arms crossed, watching Puck conduct a silent perusal of his living room with a level of concentration that reminded Kurt of every police drama he had ever seen on TV. He had not felt comfortable inviting Puck down to see the basement bedroom that he and Finn shared, and he could tell that Finn was equally reluctant to issue that invitation to Tina, so they had all remained upstairs.

The temptation to offer Puck a couple of random facts about himself was strong, but Mr. Shue had asked them to dig below the surface and work at finding out a bit more about each other. It would not be fair to _give_ Puck the information, just to get rid of him. Besides, Kurt was curious to know what, if anything, would stand out as interesting to someone so different from himself.

The other boy grunted unhappily, apparently not finding what he was looking for in the tasteful but generic outlay of the living room.

"My dad spends a lot more time in here than I do," Kurt said, figuring he could at least offer that much help. "Most of what's in here is his, or Carole's. Except the trophy case. That's everybody's."

Puck perked up at this news, moving immediately to inspect the multi-shelved glass display case set behind the large television set. Finn moved over to give him better access, flashing Kurt a grin over his friend's head. He had finally stopped prattling about burgers when it apparently occurred to him that poor Tina looked ready to gnaw her own arm off, but their conversation had quickly dried up and Finn had been looking around desperately for something else to discuss.

"I remember this," Puck said, gesturing to a medal on a faded green and white neck ribbon. "Your mom's old high-school swimming medal. It used to be hanging on the wall over at your old place."

"Yeah," Finn said. "It's from the only race Mom ever won in competition. It's kind of her prize possession."

Puck nodded absently. "Football, baseball, basketball, track & field," he listed, eyes skimming over a collection of ribbons, trophies and small medals, each with the name Finn Hudson or Burt Hummel emblazoned on it. A smaller collection of random prizes, like Finn's beloved burger trophy, also lined the shelves.

Tina pointed. "Cool, you guys both have your Sectionals trophies in here! Mom put mine on top of the TV where everyone could see it."

Each member of New Directions had received a small personal award in addition to the larger trophy given to the group as a whole. The other three singers looked at Puck in disbelief when he offered, "Mine's in a box under my bed." He shrugged off their reaction. "What? I got a lot of good junk in there. It's not like everybody in the _world_ has to know that I sing."

"You're a true sentimentalist, Puck," Kurt told him dryly. "I can hardly hold back the tears."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" he snarked back. Suddenly, he grinned, grabbing Kurt by the elbow and hauling him closer in spite of his protest. "Hey, I didn't know you had this!"

Kurt squirmed; embarrassed at having Puck and Tina find out that he had kept the game-winning football that he had kicked through the goal-posts in his first game with the McKinley Titans. "Coach Tanaka gave it to me and my dad put it in the case. It's kind of special to me."

"Aww, I didn't know you cared, Hummel."

Ignoring the taunt, he lifted his chin and explained, "It's not for the reason you think. Initially, I just set it on my bookcase downstairs because I didn't know what to do with it. Dad saw it and asked if he could put it in the case instead. At first, I assumed he wanted it so that everyone would know that his son had once been a jock, same as he used to be." He ignored Puck's small snort at this description. "But he told me later that he had put the ball in here, both to show that he's proud of me and because he wanted me to remember that I could always go to him, and be honest with him, whenever and about whatever I needed to."

When Tina and Puck exchanged a puzzled glance, Finn, who already knew the story, told them, "Kurt officially came out to his dad the night we won that football game."

"He didn't know?" Puck said incredulously.

"He knew all along," Kurt admitted ruefully, "but he let me have enough space to figure things out and tell him in my own time."

Moving closer, Tina hugged his arm. "Your dad sounds awesome, Kurt."

"I think so, too," Puck agreed, startling Kurt. "Totally the kind of dad I'd want to be for my kids."

A bit uncomfortable with the display of understanding, and noticing that Finn had tensed at Puck's casual mention of his future offspring, Kurt shook off Tina's embrace and moved to sit on the arm of the sofa. "I guess you have your second unknown fact about me, then. I'm happy that I went out for the football team."

Puck looked pleased for a moment, but then shook his head. "Nah, you're not getting off that easy. I never gave it any thought, but I actually already knew that about you. You're a stubborn little bastard but I don't think you would have stuck with it so long if you didn't like it. Nobody runs as many laps as Tanaka made you run, just to keep doing something they hate."

Kurt huffed a disgusted breath, but did not deny it. "Fine, then. Keep looking."

"Do you have any photo albums?" Tina asked, tossing her long, purple-tinted tresses over her shoulder. "I'll bet if I saw some pictures of Finn, I would learn something new. Maybe Puck can learn something about you that way, too."

Puck nodded. "Works for me."

Kurt exchanged a pained look with Finn, neither one thrilled over the idea of friends seeing their baby pictures, but they could not deny that it was a good idea.

Moving to the bookcase, Kurt squatted down and searched a moment before pulling out two albums. Finn's was a dilapidated volume covered in faded blue faux-leather with cracked gold lettering on the front reading: 'OUR FAMILY'. Obviously, his mother's. Kurt's album was basic black with gold edging, very plain in its initial state, but covered thickly with a fearsome flurry of bedazzled patterns in every random color and design imaginable.

He blushed as he caught them all grinning at the book. "I was six, okay? I thought it needed some flair."

Tina and Puck eagerly took possession of the books, following the two reluctant photo subjects into the dining room so the albums could be spread out and viewed more easily.

Both boys averted their eyes and pretended not to be embarrassed as an assortment of childhood pictures were laughed (Puck) and cooed (Tina) over. Then Tina struck gold. "Oh, my gosh," she giggled. "Finn, look at you! You're so short!"

They looked over at her chosen photo, a class picture with a plaque declaring it as Sixth grade with Mrs. Brisbane. Finn Hudson stood front and center, easily recognizable except for the fact that he was head and shoulders below every other kid in his row.

"Dude, I forgot what a little squirt you were," Puck teased, informing Tina and Kurt, "I was taller than Finn all the way up through the eighth grade. Then summer vacation came and all of a sudden, **Boom** . . . Frankenteen!"

In retaliation, Finn silently pointed to another kid standing in the row above his younger self, a heavy-set boy with glasses, thick curly hair and a very familiar scowl upon his face. Kurt and Tina both gaped as they recognized Puck.

"I officially forgive you for suggesting the photo albums," Kurt told Tina with a delighted laugh. "The embarrassment just became one hundred percent worthwhile."

"Don't be so sure. I haven't finished with yours yet," Puck reminded him, unable to entirely hide his smile at their reaction. He resumed flipping through the pages of Kurt's album, moving rapidly past a series of pictures containing people he did not know. The others knew he had found something good when he exclaimed, "Holy crap!"

Kurt's album had individual pockets for each picture and Puck quickly freed his choice and held it up so they all could see.

In the photo, wearing cleats, knee-socks, blue shorts and a blue and yellow jersey, stood a widely grinning Kurt Hummel, probably about ten or eleven, holding a soccer ball under one arm. The child looked both unusually disheveled and extremely pleased with himself.

Kurt groaned and hid his face on his folded arms, an act which did nothing to deter Puck, who rudely rapped hard knuckles against the top of his head.

"Stop that!" Kurt ordered, sitting up straight and glaring at his tormentor.

Finn was clearly surprised. "You never told me you played soccer, Kurt."

"It was a long time ago," he sighed. Seeing that they were not satisfied with this, he added, "I don't know why I didn't tell you. I liked soccer, and I was pretty good at it, but I stopped playing not long after that picture was taken so it stopped being important."

"Why?" Tina asked gently.

Reluctantly, he told her, "A couple of older boys, bullies like so many others, started harassing me about playing. They told me that only girls liked soccer and that kicking a silly little ball around must mean I was one." He paused, shooting Finn a hard look. "They also told me that soccer wasn't a real sport because it was too faggy."

Finn had the good grace to blush brightly and avert his stare.

"I don't get it," Puck said, his voice serious. "Even when we were tossing you in a dumpster every day, you never really backed down. What was different about these guys?"

Gesturing to the photo, he said, "Absolutely nothing. I was just younger then. I still naively believed that the harassment might stop if I never drew attention to myself. I knew what I was, Puck, even then. But I was afraid to let anyone else know, so I quit. Told my dad that the game wasn't fun and I didn't want to play anymore. He didn't argue, so I quit and never touched a soccer ball again except in my own back yard. Back there, I was free to kick at targets and pretend that I was kicking at people like you."

Puck grimaced and scratched his closely shaved head. "That explains a lot. I guess I'm damned lucky that you never decided to ruin my love-life over all those dumpster dives. Or are you not able to fight back without doing that freaky little dance first?"

Kurt did not know what to say. The words were completely wrong, but somehow he knew that he had just received the closest thing to a real apology that he was ever likely to get from Noah Puckerman, and he felt weirdly flattered by it. Trying to disguise his reaction, he looked the other boy straight in the eye and said, "Never do anything like that to me again and maybe you won't ever have to find out."

Puck actually flashed a grin at the threat and held up his fist. Not knowing what else to do, Kurt obligingly bumped knuckles with him.

Her mouth falling open in bafflement, Tina said, "I don't believe this. He abuses you, you threaten him, and now you're, like, _friends_? Man . . . Kurt, you may consider yourself an honorary girl but in some ways you are just as totally, weirdly, insanely _guy_-ish as all the rest of them."

Finn and Puck laughed and exchanged their own fist-bump. Kurt grinned, feeling ridiculously proud of the inadvertent compliment. Further confusing the girl, he wrapped her in a quick hug and said, "Thanks, Tina."


	5. Surprises

"Seriously, man, do you know _any_ music recorded after 1985?"

Finn shrugged off the criticism of his song choice. He had grown up on the '70s and '80s soft rock stations his mom listened to and it was still his favorite genre. "The Police were a good group," he defended. "Besides, Tina and Matt both knew the song already, and Tina sounds amazing on the chorus. Wait'll you hear."

Rolling his eyes crazily, Puck made clawing motions at Finn and mocked, "Every breath you take, every move you make, **I'll** be watching **you**." He laughed. "Too bad you aren't singing that song with Kurt. The crazy stalker-boy thing is more his angle than Tina's."

"He did get kinda creepy obsessive for a while there," Finn admitted with a smile, "but he got over it pretty fast. We're cool now. So, what are you guys doing, anyway? Kurt wouldn't tell me. And is Brittany singing with you?"

"No, Brit and Artie are singing, "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted."

Finn smiled. "That's a great song. So, you and Kurt are performing a duet?"

"Yeah. Figured if we were really going to prove to Shue that we got the point of this assignment, we should show him that we can work together. Which has been a hell of a lot harder than I originally expected. Every song I suggested, Kurt either outright hated or just pretended like he didn't know. Same with his suggestions for me. Seems like everything he liked was either a guy-girl duet or some kind of musical theater crap that I would literally _pay_ not to listen to."

"Well, he does have a really high voice for a guy," Finn pointed out.

Puck snorted. "No kidding. Seriously, if he hadn't done that gonzo Mellencamp song in class that one time and proved he could get down out of the rafters, I would've given up."

"So, what did you pick?"

"I bribed him to do Matchbox 20 with me."

Finn's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Kurt?"

"We're changing the lyrics a little. Dropping all the "she said" lines, but I talked him into doing "Push."

"And Kurt actually agreed to that. Even though the entire song is in his lower range? Dude, what did you offer him?"

An expression of purest pain crossed Puck's chiseled features. "I have to go shopping with him tomorrow, and I have to let him pick out whatever outfit I'm going to wear for performance day. And he says that if I insult his taste even one time, then Matchbox is history and Sondheim is in my future."

Finn broke down laughing, literally leaning against a wall for support as a series of images filled his brain of big, bad Puck dressed in some of Kurt's more eclectic wardrobe choices.

Puck gave him an annoyed shove. "It's not funny."

"Oh, man, yeah it is," Finn chortled. "That is _such_ a Kurt kind of revenge!"

"Revenge?" Puck repeated, new uncertainty filling his eyes.

Finn shot him a disbelieving look. "Think about it. After all the times you ruined his designer clothes with Slushies and garbage? You really think he's just going to let that go when you're handing him revenge on a silver platter? Dude, you should have just given in to the show tunes and counted yourself lucky."

"But I haven't done anything to him in months!"

The taller boy shook his head. "I guess you still don't know Kurt very well if you haven't figured out that he isn't a flare-up and forgive kind of guy. More of a vengeance seeker. He just doesn't do it like everybody else, so you never see it coming until you show up for gym class with a bag full of nothing but Hello Kitty gym clothes."

Puck's eyes widened. "Kurt did that?"

"Yeah, I kind of spilled ketchup all over his new angora sweater and then tried to clean it off in the washing machine before he saw it."

"Not good?"

Finn winced at the memory. "It was dry-clean-only. The furry stuff separated, so when I pulled it out of the machine it kind of looked like it was hacking hair-balls. I put it in the dryer hoping the fuzzy stuff would come loose, but instead it came all the way off. Plus the whole thing shrank. It looked like a holey, ketchup-stained doggy sweater by the time I was finished. I think I may have suffered permanent hearing damage from the sound Kurt made when he got a look at it."

Chuckling, Puck said, "Damn. You're a lucky man, Hudson. If he could have got you up all those stairs by himself, we'd probably still be searching for the body. You offer to replace the sweater?"

"No! Do you know how much that stupid thing cost?"

"I'm guessing around $300." At Finn's puzzled look, he said, "That's how much he apparently shelled out for that piece of Jackson Pollock throw-up he was wearing the other day."

Finn grimaced in understanding. "Oh. Anyhow, I apologized, but I should have known he forgave me _way_ too easily. He didn't say anything else, but then three weeks later-"

"Hello Kitty?"

"Yep. He special-ordered the stupid things in my size."

"Aw, crap," Puck said, wiping his hand down his face. "So that means I'm seriously screwed. I keep my mouth shut and let him dress me up like a clown on Friday; or I refuse to go shopping with him and end up singing like a chick. Either way, he wins!"

Clapping him on the shoulder in sympathy, Finn grinned. "Like I said, bud. The guy knows how to get revenge."


	6. Assumptions

Puck grumbled and muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and staring out the window at the passing scenery, not happy that Kurt had insisted on driving. It made sense, given that little mister fashionista knew where they were going and he didn't, though he naturally assumed the mall, but he did not have to like it.

"What is your problem today?" Kurt snapped after a couple of minutes, drawing Puck out of his self-absorbed mood. "This was your idea, remember? I perform 'Push' with you in return for you letting me find you a decent outfit to wear while we sing it."

"Decent?" he returned, heavy eyebrows furrowing in irritation. "That's really what you think, isn't it? That your stuff is so much better than mine because you paid some ridiculous amount of money for the designer label? Well, I don't _care_ if you look down on us little people, Hummel. Not everybody has a rich daddy who can buy him a new outfit every other freakin' day, and a truck that probably cost more than I could make with my pool-cleaning business in five years."

Taken aback by this unexpected rant, Kurt actually pulled over and put the car in park so that he could give Puck his full attention. "Is that what you think? That my dad just hands over cash and tells me to go buy whatever I want?"

"Doesn't he?" he challenged.

Exasperated, Kurt turned to face him. "No! He owns his own business, yes, and I work for him every summer and sometimes after school, but he pays me the same as any other worker. And I had to take and pass all of the legal certification tests before he would do that! He doesn't buy my clothes either, except the occasional birthday or Christmas present. In fact, he doesn't even _like_ most of them. If you could have been patient, I had intended to show you where I buy most of my clothes."

Kurt started to put the vehicle back in gear, then abruptly changed his mind.

"As for this truck, I was as surprised as you when I saw it. Being an auto mechanic's kid means I grew up thinking, breathing and dreaming cars and Dad has known since I was too small to see over the dashboard that I was determined to have one of my own the minute I turned 16. He's been putting aside money to help me buy one for years, but I was honestly expecting some kind of sensible little compact. The Navigator was my dream-car, and I didn't even realize my dad knew that. I never told him because I didn't want him to think I was disappointed in whatever he actually chose. This was the most amazing present he ever could have gotten me, because it showed how well he really knows me. I'm _sorry_ if it doesn't meet your approval."

Puck was a little shocked by the shrill volley of words. They almost sounded as if Kurt had been bottling them up for awhile, just dying to vent them on somebody. He had honestly not meant to insult Kurt's father by saying what he had, though it was clear that Kurt had taken it that way given his instant rabid defense of the man.

Maybe everybody made the same assumptions he had, Puck mused. He had grown up relatively poor and couldn't deny that for the last several months, every time he saw this vehicle or saw Kurt showing up at school in yet another fancy outfit, it had made him want to do something mean just to punish the other boy for flaunting his family's affluence. He had never thought about those possessions meaning anything more than a way to show off, a way to rub the noses of poorer kids in the fact that Kurt had money.

If he were honest with himself, Puck could admit that it was this reason, much more than Kurt's obvious homosexuality, that had made the other boy such a tempting target.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, meeting Kurt's eyes and hoping he could see the sincerity behind the words. "I shouldn't have said anything without knowing the facts."

Kurt looked a bit confused by the apology, but nodded and restarted his engine.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Kurt said, "I don't think my clothes are better than yours because they cost more, you know. I just think you have an appalling lack of imagination when it comes to fashion."

"Well, if imagination is what prompted the corset, or the kilt, or some of those crazy hats you wear to school, I think I can live without one."

A smile curved the edge of Kurt's mouth. "Does that mean if I pick out a combination of those things for you to wear on Friday, you'll give up on this idea and let me pick the song?"

Puck shook his head. "Not a chance. Geez, you don't give up, do you?"

"Never. Probably why somebody recently told me that I was a stubborn little bastard."

The sly statement surprised a laugh out of Puck. "Where we going anyway? You missed the turnoff for the mall."

"We're going to Haute Look, the outlet store at the edge of town."

Puck grimaced. "Never heard of it."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Kurt sighed. "They have all the best brands, either gently used, or new but possessing some minor manufacturing defect."

"Like being ugly?" he baited, just to get a reaction.

Kurt merely gave a disdainful sniff. "Like missing a button or having a loose hem. Simple to fix, really, but the original boutiques can't sell them that way at full price so they ship those items over to the outlets. With a little experience you can find great pieces for fifty or even as much as seventy-five percent off."

"And this place is where you buy most of your stuff?" Puck pressed, surprised by the admission.

"Yes," he said frankly. "That sweater you didn't like on Monday was more of an exception than a rule. I like to be able to try the clothes on before I buy them, but I saw that piece online and had to have it so I just ordered it from the designer's website."

Puck gave him a pitying look. "So you really did like that thing?"

Kurt made a face. "On the website. Unfortunately, not so much in person. It didn't look nearly as good on me as it did on the model. My dad and Carole couldn't think of anything to say about it except that as long as I was happy, they were happy. That's how I know they hated it. Then I wore the sweater to school and Mercedes hated it, Tina hated it; even you hated it . . . though you were the only one who came right out and said so. After all that I had to give in."

He grinned. "Glad I could help. Seems like a lot of money to just throw out, though."

"Bite your tongue! I'm not throwing it out. Haute Look has a resale counter. I'm selling it, hopefully for enough money that we can get you looking like one hot property."

"Mother Nature already took care of that one," Puck told him smugly.

Kurt made a gagging sound. "Please. You are merely a lump of clay, an unpolished rock in desperate need of the right sculptor to bring out your full potential."

Pulling into the parking lot of his chosen boutique, Kurt killed the engine and turned to look his companion over, eyes narrowing as he studied Puck in a way that made the other boy squirm, feeling like a bug under a microscope.

"They had some new Marc Jacobs shirts in the last time I was here that might do," Kurt mused, tipping his head from side to side as he considered the possibilities. Then he gasped and sat up straight, blue-green eyes widening with an expression of purest revelation. "Oh, I've got it! John Varvatos! Some of his pieces would look _fantastic_ on you."

Puck sighed. This shopping trip was sounding worse all the time. The gleam of insane joy in Kurt's eyes at the prospect of playing dress-up with a live doll was creeping him out big time, but he had made a promise and whatever other flaws he might possess, Noah Puckerman was a man of his word. "Lead on, Michelangelo."


	7. Consequences

Finn stuck his head out into the hallway, looking hopefully to the right and left. There was only a minute or two left before first period Glee practice began, and there was no sign of his friends anywhere. Reluctantly heading back inside the practice room, he despondently threw herself into a chair next to Tina and Artie. "Where are they?"

"You don't think Kurt picked out something so horrible that Puck decided to beat him up, do you?" Tina asked, biting her lip.

Finn, who had been quite happy to spread the news of Puck's fate – telling Mercedes had pretty much taken care of that – tried to be reassuring. "Nah, he wouldn't do that. I don't think. I mean, I'm pretty sure. After all, Kurt came home alive the other day, right? That has to mean everything went okay. Although, he _was_ avoiding me yesterday, and so was Puck. They both claimed they had to practice their song and then disappeared when I tried to ask how it went. Oh, man."

"Puck wouldn't actually hurt him," Artie decided, after a moment of consideration. "He never hurt any of us. Humiliation had a more lasting and crowd-pleasing effect. Gee, I hope he hasn't gone back to celebrating Patriotic Wedgie day. Poor Kurt . . ."

"Maybe we should go look for them," Tina said, standing and then sitting back down as the bell rang.

The ten present members of New Directions shifted and whispered. When Mr. Schuester walked in alone, there was a general gasp of dismay. Some people became worried, while others were simply disappointed at the thought of missing out on a funny sight.

"Good morning, class," Will said brightly, pulling up a stool with a bright smile. "Today is the day you all get to tell us what you've learned about your partners, and treat us to what I already know are going to be some amazing duets and trios. Any volunteers to go first?"

Timidly, Tina raised her hand. "Excuse me, Mr. Shue, but Kurt and Puck aren't here yet."

He looked around, frowning at the sight of the two empty chairs. "That's strange. I saw them heading this way quite a while ago. I assumed they were already here." He stood. "Maybe I'd better go take a quick look-."

Whatever the easy-going instructor had intended to do became a moot point as Kurt and Puck entered the room together, heatedly conversing.

"You _totally_ knew that was going to happen. You set me up, didn't you?"

"I did not! I didn't _know_ it would happen, I just suspected it might be a possibility. Why did you think I suggested you bring the second outfit with you, wrapped in plastic?"

"How should I know? I figured it was some kind of dumb-ass fashion requirement or something. You could have at least given me some warning."

"Oh, you mean the way you did all those times you and your _friends_ did the same thing to me? Or Artie? Or Rachel? Or any of the so called loser kids here? It isn't as if you've never had the experience before, and at least _you_ didn't have to wash corn syrup out of your hair!"

The two boys stared at each other through narrowed eyes, practically nose to nose, totally oblivious to their delighted audience. Both had their hands fisted, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that Kurt's were planted firmly on his hips.

Mr. Schuester cleared his throat. "Uh, guys? Something you want to tell us here?"

"Sorry we're late, Mr. Shue," Kurt said, settling himself with a deep breath and a shake of his shoulders, right hand reaching to smooth his still-damp hair. "A couple of fashion critics stopped us in the hallway to express their opinion of our clothing with orange Slushies. It took a few minutes to clean up and change."

There were not a lot of McKinley bullies brave enough to face Puck without a whole gang behind them. Whoever did this must have felt that they had some serious provocation. Finn just had to ask, "What were you wearing?"

"Hell if I know," Puck said, sighing gustily. "Kurt looked like a freaking leprechaun and I was in, like, cargo pants with buckles all over them, and a shirt that was all shiny with a bunch of cut-out panels in different colors all over it. I looked like a gigantic disco ball."

"He did not. It was very chic," Kurt disagreed. "It's a real shame that none of you got to enjoy it. However, I'm sure you'd have agreed that these new outfits are far superior. They were my first choice all along."

"You said the others were your first choice!"

"No, I told you the other shirt was the better option to wear to school. When you've been Slushied as often as I have, you learn to always keep the better choice in reserve."

Exasperated, Santana interrupted. "Just show us, already!"

Puck had entered the room wearing a long brown trench-coat but now he removed it, as Kurt likewise removed his beloved clear D&G raincoat. Kurt posed proudly, enjoying the reaction of his fellow club members, while Puck stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at a blank spot on the wall, pretending that he was not blushing as everybody ooh'ed and aah'ed.

"**Daaamn**," Mercedes said, expressing the opinion of the room in one succinct sentence.

Both young men wore black leather boots, Puck's in a cowboy cut while Kurt's had a flamenco style with a daring Cuban heel. Above the boots, each of them were hugged by dark jeans that seemed to show off all the right places, topped by matching black T's paired with patterned shirts. Puck's was a soft, gently flowing garment in a pleasing blend of red, brown and gold that perfectly highlighted his dusky complexion and deep brown eyes. Kurt's shirt was made of similar material but form-fitting and patterned in narrow stripes of blue and green, at least four shades of each. Both of them looked amazing, like they could have just stepped off a Paris runway.

"Whoa, Puck you should have let Kurt do your shopping a long time ago," Artie blurted, drawing a laugh from several of the others.

"The make-over offer is open to all," Kurt cut in smugly, suggestively plucking one of Artie's suspender straps.

To the surprise of everyone, most obviously Kurt, Matt spoke up, "I might take you up on that if you're serious. I can't quite figure out what you did to him. The clothes are pretty much normal, but somehow he just looks . . . _better_."

"He does," Tina said with a puzzled shake of her head. "It's weird!"

"I can hear you, you know," Puck pointed out sourly.

"Extreme hotness," Brittany chimed in softly, her eyes traveling over them both with a level of appreciation that made Kurt's already rosy cheeks turn bright red. "You should totally let us know if you want to do a double-date."

Her pinky hooked with Santana's and the two of them flashed smiles that instantly had Puck leering and Kurt looking like he wanted to run for his life.

"All right, everyone," Will interrupted loudly, looking a little embarrassed himself as he clapped his hands in an effort to regain some control. "I agree, you guys look great today, but we've got a lot of people to hear from and, I believe, five different songs to listen to. So, go ahead and take your seats and let's get this party started!"


	8. Results

Puck and Kurt are the only ones who get actual duet-lyrics in this chapter because this is their story – and because I thought the words kind of suited them - but just pretend we heard everyone else too. : )

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"All right, who wants to go first?"

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Rachel Berry popped out of her seat and said, "I believe that honor should be mine." Dragging a reluctant Mike Chang out of his chair, she posed him to her satisfaction like a warm-blooded mannequin then turned and, clasping her hands with dramatic poise, flashed a wide smile at her audience. "The first thing I learned about Mike this week is that he has studied several disciplines of dancing, including tap, ballet, jazz and swing. The second is that he loves silent movies and some of his signature pop-and-lock moves were actually developed by emulating old Buster Keaton films, also giving him a gift for comedic pratfalls."

Mike helpfully demonstrated by tipping his head back and following the motion with his body, falling in a flat sprawl on the dull linoleum floor then twisting all the way back up in a single graceful move. The class clapped and whistled in appreciation.

"The third and most shocking discovery," Rachel continued, leaning forward, her brown eyes widening as if she were about to reveal a dire secret, "is that Mike _hates_ singing solos. In any song!"

Most of the other kids snickered. This was far from news to them, but Rachel had clearly never paid much attention to the shy Asian boy. Or else, she was simply unable to fathom a world in which not every person wanted the limelight as much as she did.

Will Schuester smiled. "There's nothing wrong with that. Every group needs support singers just as much as they need soloists. Mike, how about you? What did you learn this week?"

"Um, I found out that Artie Abrams is a major Bruce Lee fan and that he took karate classes for two years before his accident. He puts together model airplanes for competitive flying events. Oh, and he has a serious hatred of houseflies."

Artie shivered dramatically at the mere mention of the annoying insects. "They're disgusting," he defended. "Whenever they start rubbing their hands together, I can almost see their teeny little brains plotting world domination."

Schuester chuckled. "Well, all right then. Not what I was expecting, but that was more or less the point of all this. Do you and Mike have a song picked out for us, Rachel?"

"We do," she said promptly. "I have chosen . . . that is, _we_ have chosen, to sing Mariah Carey's iconic 2005 ode to the painful dissolution of love and the bitter taste of heartbreak: "We Belong Together". I, of course, will be taking the lead while Mike provides his usual excellent harmony. Brad, if you're ready?"

The patient piano man had synced up his electronic keyboard while the girl was talking and obediently flipped a switch to provide the necessary backbeat rhythm while he played the lilting piano melody for them. The other kids listened politely, with varying degrees of enjoyment, but there was a lot of smirking and subtle nudging as they noticed that for a "duet" it sounded an awful lot like a solo performance with a bit of helpful blending-in from Mike each time they reached the chorus.

Oblivious to the head shakes and eye-rolls, Rachel finished with a triumphantly blasting final note, beaming expectantly at the class as she apparently waited for a wild standing ovation that was just not going to happen. The only people who seemed properly appreciative of the performance were Finn, who whooped and clapped loudly, and Mr. Schuester who stood up to shake Mike's hand and give Rachel an encouraging, "That was great! Let's hear it for Rachel and Mike, everybody!"

The class applauded again, Mike receiving several encouraging high-fives as he hurried back to his seat with an air of palpable relief at having his ordeal over with. Rachel looked a little confused, but clapped supportively as Mercedes, Santana and Quinn took the stage.

"Um, I guess I'll go first," Mercedes began, smiling a bit nervously. "We've decided to sing TLC's "No Scrubs" and we'll be just switching the lead between us."

"Sounds great," Schuester encouraged. "So, what have you learned about Santana?"

Mercedes offered the Hispanic cheerleader a brief smile. "I learned that Santana's grandmother is Portuguese, and that Santana actually grew up speaking three different languages. I thought that was cool. She also is a pretty good sketch-artist and draws really funny cartoons about people she knows. The third thing I learned is that she has exotic birds for pets."

Santana Lopez gave her fellow club-members a hard stare as if daring them to laugh at any of these things, but no one did. They looked genuinely interested, so she quickly ticked off her own list on her fingers.

"First, Rachel Berry is really into stickers. Disturbingly into them. Like not just those little stars she puts on everything, but a whole giant stamp-book thing full of every sticker she's ever collected since she was, like, two. Second, I found out that she wants to compete in a triathlon someday, which I have to admit is surprisingly non-lame. And third, she's severely allergic to nuts, which explains why she doesn't like to harmonize too much with the rest of you guys."

Amid much laughter and an unusually friendly exchange of smiles between Santana and Rachel, Quinn took a step forward. Smiling, she said, "Mercedes Jones wants to travel the world some day and until she gets there, she's collecting postcards from every city and country around the world that she can get online pen-pals and collectors to send her. Second, I was surprised to find out that our favorite R&B diva also has a secret collection of country music CDs."

"Oh, _Mercedes_," Kurt moaned, looking so horrified that the entire group erupted in laughter again.

Mercedes just grinned and shrugged off her friend's unsurprising reaction.

"And lastly, she absolutely kicks ass at board games. Since I started living with her, I haven't managed to win a single game. And I'm usually pretty good!"

With a big grin, Artie offered, "Both you guys, Monopoly at my house on Friday?"

Mercedes exchanged a glance with Quinn, then laughed. "You're on! Prepare to be crushed."

After a quickly whispered conference with Brad, the girls began their song. Everyone was soon bopping along to the sassy girl-power anthem. The harmony was tight and had a terrific ebb and flow as the young women traded back and forth on the lyrics, coming together on each chorus. It was obvious that they'd had a good time preparing this song and their classmates responded with vigorous applause.

"Excellent!" Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands and nodding approval to the girls as they retook their seats. "It sounds like you guys all really embraced this week's lesson. And we're making pretty good time so far, so we should be able to fit everybody in if we keep it going. Who's up?"

Tina raised her hand next, smiling shyly as she, Finn and Matt moved to the center of the room. "We decided to go with a classic; "Every Breath You Take" by the Police." She looked confused for a moment as she watched Puck make a crazy face and a clawing motion at Finn, who snorted and tried not to laugh. "Uh, so anyway, what I learned about Finn Hudson this week is that he really, seriously, like, almost a fetish level thing, loves hamburgers and that he won a trophy at the county fair for eating so many of them."

There were several giggles at this, mostly because Finn looked so absurdly proud at the announcement.

"And, um, I also learned that until eighth grade, Finn was always the shortest kid in his class. So, any of you who haven't hit your final growth spurt yet, don't give up hope!" She grinned when the other kids laughed. "And last . . . he knows how to knit."

The class burst into laughter. Even Kurt looked surprised by that revelation, which had poor Finn blushing like a beet. He had clearly not realized that Tina intended to reveal that particular fact. "I broke my leg when I was twelve and I was stuck in the house and bored with TV and comics, so my mom taught me how to knit just to give me something to do," he explained defensively.

"First glee-club and now knitting," Puck teased with an exaggerated shake of his head. Glancing up at the top row, he called out, "Hey, Kurt, are you sure you were gay _before_ Finn moved in with you?"

The other boy smiled. "Pretty sure, yes."

Finn gave his housemate a sour look. "Funny. So, moving on, the things I learned about Matt are that he helps his dad restore classic cars, he wants to be a lawyer some day if his first choice doesn't work out. And that's my third fact. Matt is a really good underwater photographer. I saw some pictures he took on his family vacation to Florida last year and they were _amazing_. Like National Geographic level amazing."

Among the intrigued murmurs of his classmates, Matt Rutherford shyly ducked his head and said, "Thanks, man." Gesturing to Quinn, he smiled and said, "Quinn Fabray won a Regional Spelling Bee when she was ten years old, and she's made straight A's in English every year of her life, so I definitely know who I'm sitting next to in class next year."

"I didn't hear that," Mr. Schuester said, pretending to cover his ears.

Matt laughed. "Just kidding, Mr. Shue. The last thing about Quinn is something that all the girls and Kurt probably already knew after their Lady Gaga thing a few weeks ago, but it was news to me. She designs and creates some of her own clothes, plus makes costumes for the children's theater downtown as a hobby."

"That's amazing, I did not know that," the teacher commented. "You and I need to talk before the Regionals competition, Quinn."

She smiled and nodded, "I'd be happy to help out."

When Finn, Tina and Matt launched into their song everyone was surprised to discover that Finn had opted to yield the lead on an '80's classic-rock song to Tina, who absolutely killed it. Artie was grinning hugely and high-fiving everyone in his vicinity as his girlfriend tore through the power-ballad.

"Whoa!" Mr. Schuester crowed, smiling with pride as he congratulated the singers. "That was terrific! I am being totally blown away today! So, that leaves Artie, Brittany, Puck and Kurt left to perform. What'll it be, guys? You want to flip to see who goes first?"

"That's not fair, Mr. Shue. Artie can't do flips with his wheelchair."

"Uh, right," he said, looking a little pained. "How about you two just sing first?"

Brittany smiled, apparently convinced that she had made a point. Artie grinned as he wheeled himself out to join her at center stage. "One thing I learned about Brittany," he began, smiling up at his duet partner, "is that she likes to make bird-calls."

Brittany obligingly demonstrated with a pretty fair whippoorwill impression. "Santana's birds really like that one. I think I might be telling them jokes."

"She has a cat named Sprinkles."

"Santana's birds don't like it when I bring him over to visit. I don't think he knows any jokes."

"And she doesn't know how to drive."

Brittany sighed sadly. "I failed the permit test three times, so I have to wait until next year to try again."

Will Schuester smiled indulgently. "I'm sure you'll get it next time, Brittany. So, what did you learn about Puck?"

"I found out his first name is actually Noah, which is funny because he doesn't even have a boat. He doesn't have any animals either, because he came over to my house and sneezed for an hour after Sprinkles rubbed against him so I think he must be, like, allergic or something. Oh! And he knows how to play the piano. He doesn't know any songs with words, though, so I guess he's not very good at it. But I like you anyway, Puck."

Puck smiled at the reassurance. "Thanks, Brit." To the rest of the curious class, he said, "Classical. My mom made me take lessons when I was a kid."

"Mine, too," Kurt offered, looking surprised at having this thing in common with the tough boy.

"You couldn't have told me that a few days ago?" he retorted.

They turned their attention back to Artie and Brittany, who favored the class with a lovely acapella rendition of "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted".

Brittany, like Mike and Matt, rarely did any solo work, so her sweet harmony to Artie's tenderly voiced melody was a surprise to many and the applause when they finished was enthusiastic and sincere.

"I am hearing some really fabulous work today, everybody," Mr. Schuester praised, giving the latest duo another round of applause. "I'm really impressed and I think you're all going to knock the judges dead at Regionals in a couple of weeks. Now, let's see our last duo in action. Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Kurt and Puck!"

Pumped up from their own turns in the spotlight, the others gave the well-dressed pair lots of laughing, whistling encouragement.

Strapping on his guitar, Puck nodded for Kurt to speak first. Never one to shy away from such an opportunity, Kurt smiled primly at the class and then more genuinely at Tina Cohen-Chang. "I discovered that Tina is something of a movie buff, with particular leanings toward anything Pixar, Tim Burton or Monty Python."

"I love Monty Python!" Rachel interjected with an excited smile. "My dads have the entire collection of their works."

"Really?" Tina said excitedly. "I do, too! That's so cool."

Kurt gently cleared his throat, regaining their attention. "Tina has visited six U.S. National Parks and has an ambition to see all fifty-eight of them before she dies, preferably in the form of a coast to coast road trip. Tina's greatest ambition is to one day record a solo album. And after what I heard a few minutes ago, I will definitely be buying a copy."

There were several murmurs of, "Me, too," from their classmates that had Tina blushing in pleasure.

"Thanks, you guys," she whispered.

Puck stepped forward, guitar at the ready. "When we started this assignment, I figured I was going to have the toughest time of all. It was exactly what Mr. Shue was saying. I thought I already knew everything I needed to know about Kurt just from looking at him. And I don't mind telling you that I'm glad I was wrong."

Surprised by this unexpected prefacing, Kurt tensed a bit, clearly a little worried about what was coming.

"First of all, I found out we had some things in common. Kurt played soccer when he was a kid and if I can make the assumption from watching him kick a football, he was pretty damn good at it. He's also a gear-head, which makes him my new best bud the next time the old truck won't start."

There were several snickers at this. Puck's vehicle seemed to give out on an almost weekly basis. They laughed again when Kurt raised his eyebrow and replied, "In that case, my expert opinion is that you should take ol' faithful out back and shoot her, just to be merciful."

Puck just smirked. "The best thing I learned about Kurt this week is that under all that exterior shallowness, with the fancy clothes and perfect hair and prissy manners, there lives a tough little guy who isn't afraid to bend but won't ever let anyone break him. You got a devious sense of humor and a really loyal heart, Kurt," he said directly to the wide-eyed tenor, before looking at Tina and Finn and adding, "They're pretty lucky to have you for a friend."

"You could get lucky, too, if you want," Kurt said without thinking, then clapped a hand over his mouth, face turning bright red as he realized how his comment could be interpreted.

Puck, who would have punched him for saying something like that a week ago, just grinned and shot back, "No, thanks, Hummel. I already got a girl. But I could always use another friend."

He held out his right hand and Kurt shook it, the action drawing sighs of rapturous satisfaction from the girls and grins from all the other guys, including Mr. Schuester.

"I guess I don't have to wonder whether you got the point of this assignment," the teacher said, his voice sounding a little rough. "We've got just a few minutes left. What are you two going to sing for us?"

Kurt smiled, suddenly looking more relaxed than Schuester had ever seen him. "We're doing "Push" by Matchbox 20. It's a favorite of Puck's and I've been practicing all week to get my voice in the right key to do it justice."

"He means it's not a girl's song," Puck added needlessly, drawing a scowl from Kurt.

Finn rose from his seat at a nod from Puck, which puzzled Kurt until he saw the tall teen heading for the drum kit in the corner. Realizing that if this was one of Puck's favorite songs, then the odds were good that Finn knew it too, Kurt waited, tapping his fingertips on his jean-clad thighs as the guitar solo began. He nodded along to the beat as Puck began to sing:

_I don't know if I've ever been good enough.  
I'm a little bit rusty and I think my head is caving in.  
And I don't know if I've ever been really loved  
by a hand that's touched me._

_Well I feel like something's gonna give,_

_and I'm a little bit angry._

_This ain't over, no while I still need you around._  
_You don't owe me._

_We might change.  
And we just might feel good.  
_

Kurt and the drum kit both joined in for the simple chorus:

_I wanna push you around, well I will, I will  
I wanna push you down, well I will, I will  
I want to take you for granted_

_Yeah, well I will._

When the other boy nodded, Kurt began the second verse in a lower than usual, but not totally uncomfortable key.

_I don't know why you ever would lie to me,  
like I'm a little untrusting_

_When I think the truth is gonna hurt you.  
I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me.  
You couldn't stand to be near me.  
When my face don't seem to want to shine,_

_Cause it's a little bit dirty_

_Don't just stand there, saying nice things to me._  
_I've been cheated I've been wronged_

_You, you don't know me._

_I can't change.  
I won't do anything at all._

They repeated the chorus and finished out the rock-and-roll verse together, both singing strongly and passionately. When they finished, both singers were a little out of breath but they grinned triumphantly when the other kids erupted in applause.

"Wow!" Mr. Schuester gushed, clapping them each on one shoulder. "What an amazing finish to this week. Let me tell all of you that I would be pleased to have any one of your selections represent us at Regionals this year. Definitely keep those in mind when our song-selection party comes around. You all get a definite A+ on this assignment guys. Way to go!"

The room was abuzz with happy conversation as the bell rang, everybody riding the high of improved self esteem. It was difficult to say how long the mood would last, but for the moment they felt unstoppable and agreed that this was the best assignment they'd had in a long time.


	9. Conclusions

**Epilogue: Puck**

Snapping the collar of his new shirt into crisp perfection, Puck admired his reflection. He really did look even more than usually hot today. Girls had been coming on to him all day, and who could blame them? He'd had his doubts while Kurt was making him try on half the store Wednesday, especially when he had tossed that butt-ugly disco shirt onto the "Keep" pile, but the kid really did have great taste in clothes.

Puck was not so stupid that he did not realize that Kurt had made him wear the tackier outfit this morning for the sole purpose of attracting ridicule. Finn had been 100 percent right about that, but while the Slushie attack had made him boiling mad at first, a little time to think it over had made him realize that from Kurt's point-of-view, he'd totally had it coming.

This new nicer way of acting, and even thinking, was still taking a lot of getting used to and sometimes Puck wasn't sure he'd ever fully figure it out. For years he had lived by the rule that guys like him; the cool, strong, popular ones; had a social obligation to dominate the weak and punish the losers for being . . . well, losers. Then his best friend had defected and taken a public stand on behalf of the geeks. It was an act that should have cost Finn everything, and almost had. Yet in the end, he was more popular than ever and his example had convinced three fellow jocks and three cheerleaders to follow him over to the Dark Side.

Then there was Kurt Hummel. The biggest social reject of all. The only openly gay kid in the entire school, who had refused to give up his pretty clothes and fey mannerisms, who had a voice like no other post-pubescent male Puck had ever met but who refused to be ashamed of that voice. Celebrated it, in fact.

Puck could not help but admire Kurt, though he would never tell him so. The plucky little guy had shown more guts than the rest of the football team put together when he had "auditioned" as kicker, and then convinced the team to try things his way instead of the other way around. Who _wouldn't_ admire a guy who could convince Miss Sylvester – the one person in the entire school who scared the crap out of Puck – to put him on the Cheerios squad, and then became their star and secret weapon for Nationals?

This new social ladder was baffling and contrary to all that he had always thought of as normal, but he could not deny that he kind of liked this strange, upside-down world a little better than the old one. And if being friends with people like Kurt cost him a few Slushie facials from the other jocks? Well, Puck knew where most of them hung out. And he was **still **a bad-ass.

Order would be restored soon enough.

#

**Epilogue: Kurt**

Kurt walked proudly down the hall, enjoying the approving looks he was getting. True, it would be nicer if more of those looks came from boys than girls, but he was not about to refuse admiration due to a technicality.

All too often, nobody appreciated his sense of fashion, but he had decided that since Puck was being such a good sport about the shopping, he would also try a new look – the hot metro-sexual dude – just to support him. Apparently, he was totally rocking it! Maybe he would have to consider a few more purchases along this line.

Kurt smiled as he thought about Puck. He actually felt a little bit shamed by the degree of pleasure he had experienced at watching his former nemesis receive a face-full of orange Slushie this morning. But only a bit. There had been a lot of pay-back contained in that cup.

Still, it had been a complete shock when Puck had not only decided against holding him to blame for the Slushie attack, but had accepted his offer of friendship in front of the entire glee-club.

For a moment, Kurt had been convinced that he was dreaming.

A tiny, cynical part of his mind could not help wondering if that acceptance had not been given primarily as a peace-offering to Finn, who had recently started taking their "practically brothers" relationship quite seriously and become both supportive and protective of Kurt.

He hoped not. Deep down, he liked Puck a lot. Not in the same way that he had liked Finn for so long. There was way too much water under the troll-bridge for that, and Kurt was no masochist, but he was pleased by the idea of having Puck for a . . . well, a _buddy_, maybe. Somebody to eat junk food and discuss cars and play video games with. He did similar things with Finn, but that was different somehow. Finn lived with him now, so they were more or less obligated to socialize.

Of course, Puck might have no intention of socializing with him outside of glee-club. His idea of being a friend might just mean a refusal to let other jocks bully Kurt, which would be just fine too, but a small hopeful part of him preferred the day-dream. Puck and Finn seemed to be rebuilding their friendship lately and he liked the idea that maybe he could help them along, just by being there.

It would be really nice to genuinely be friends with a couple of straight guys who weren't living in fear for their reputations, or otherwise creeped out by the idea of hanging with a gay kid.

Besides, given enough time and subtle suggestion, he might be able to completely weed out the large collection of football jerseys and plaid flannel shirts that dominated both of the other boys' wardrobes. And who knew? Maybe if he compromised with an increase in his personal knowledge of '80's pop and '90s grunge music, it would be possible to cultivate a proper appreciation of musical theater in both of them.

The possibilities were endless.


End file.
